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Damaré M Apr 2015
0/1
You don't have a twin?
I hate to have only one chance to marry someone like you
Damaré M Apr 2015
I'm only human
Who can only have so much
Interest in a statue
Damaré M Mar 2015
Your beauty in relation to how warm you make me feel; however, remind me of the reddish-pink sun that illustrates the skies when the air quality is terrible... I want you but I don't need you
Damaré M Mar 2015
I can't see it coming down my eye, so I gotta let the poem cry
My head held high, but my heart is in my stomach
My stance is sturdy, but I need to take a seat
A strong man who's afraid to show signs of being weak
Holding in all this emotion, is just making my eyes even more bleak
I'm usually good with coping with commotion, but as you get older the stakes get a little more steep
The stairs get a little bit closer
My eyes are dry so the stares got a little longer
Day dreaming all night
The fight is lingering around so I'm a loner
If I let it all out i'll be more resounding then a moaner, pounding an extensive *****

I can't see it coming down my eye
It almost spilled over this morning
The image in the mirror kept it from pouring
Reminded myself that self is the only help
But if I focus too much on that notion my eyes will begin to melt
So I show my back to that reflection
I'm hunched over in the house, but when I come out I suddenly get erected

I can't see it coming down my eye
But what can hurt if I eject it?
Why do I get the feeling that I'll be lessened?
But lemme teach you a lesson, that if it hurts don't be afraid to let the water works because your feelings will be disconnected

So I gotta let the poem cry
Each word is woeful
I can't see it coming down my eye
My iris is blessed, but my fingers is in distress
All this written whimpering I'm doing my fingers are twisted signaling the west

I can't see it coming through my vision, coming through my lenses, through my ocular instruments

So I gotta let the poem whine, the poem sob, my ink pen form salinity globs
Damaré M Feb 2015
We live in a society where lawyers defend guilty people, judges dictate someone's freedom and get paid in large amounts while earning the upmost respects by the greater population. We have teachers civilizing the young and innocent, but rewarded much less. Do you see the cycle?
Damaré M Jan 2015
Now we are living in a new era...
When love developed eyes
All the other senses are missing
Damaré M Jan 2015
The relay we tend to play, a selfish race of people who passes the baton but never get it handed back to us.
I'm running from someone, who is running from someone aswell, while I am chasing another, who is running from me and chasing someone else. The question is who will be selfless and end the functioning of this roundabout tract by turning around and giving reciprocity? My heart goes out for the anchor
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